boats and birds
by blubrrymilk
Summary: "i live to let you shine." . . [kagehina/oikenma]
1. intro

"I just want you to live happily, even if it's without me."

 _And his words were much too true._

"Just leave me your stardust to remember you by."

-Boats and Birds

an Olympic athlete falls in love with a suicidal florist who can't return his feelings.


	2. stars

_If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky,_

Down the street and across the boarding bridge there was a flower shop brushed pastel colors. Irises and amaryllis flooded window boxes, bamboo shoots framing the oaken entry way.

Inside was a florist with a mop of sunny hair, bright amber eyes, and painted sunset cheeks. Whenever anyone would pass he would smile and wave, dirt usually clinging to his small palms. A little sun, all tucked away where no one could find him.

That's what Kageyama thought, when he'd first seen him.

A lazy Sunday afternoon rolled past, one the athlete knew would go unaccomplished. So he grabbed his phone and enough quarters for two dollars, deciding that jogging didn't technically count as training on the day he was supposed to rest.

Yet he'd only made it five blocks when his phone died and one of his quarters rolled away in eager escape. In his attempt to chase it down, he stumbled over his feet, turning left down an unmarked subdivision road just a while across from Steel Bridge. And it was there that he saw Karasuno Gardens.

It was there that he saw him.

"Oi, are you okay?" the shop owner asked, noting the dejected look of defeat on the raven's face.

The setter lifted his eyes to meet the boy's, lungs burning in humiliation.

And time

stopped.

Face framed by the purple of hyacinth, cherry lips marked pale and chapped. Vivid skin the color of soft pastries, tiny flowers spread across his hips where his shirt rode up a little. And his eyes.

 _His eyes._

Orbiting galaxies in every shade of brown, freckled and flawed skin beneath them, eyelashes like tangible rays of light. A dot curved in the iris on his left side, just barely noticable from afar.

 _A star_.

"H-hey," the boy muttered softly, pupils contracting as the athlete's fascinated expression came into focus. "You're Kageyama Tobio! Olympic volleyball player!"

He blinked, his chest constricting in wonder.

His voice was beautiful.

"I'm Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno Gardens' florist."

He smiled, so brightly.

"Glad to meet you, Kageyama-san."


	3. boats

_If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea,_

"Kenma?"

A messy head of bright orange curls bounced into the employee break room, pausing before the blond male. His laptop was tilted just acute to his eye level, fingers pressed emptily against the black keys. "Hm? What is it, Shouyou?"

The energetic store owner leaned into the room, his customary smile disappearing when it wasn't needed. "We have a customer you might know."

"Unless it's Tooru, I highly doubt it." The blond glanced upwards at his boss, at the flowers peaking from his shirt collar. There was a daffodil in his hair, though he wasn't sure how it got there.

"Well, he plays with Tooru; does that count?"

Kenma huffed absently, gently shutting the case of his computer. Shouyou's face looked so different in the dark.

"No, I wouldn't. He can't stand to be seen with me, remember?"

The ginger chewed his lip anxiously, picking at the mud under his fingers. He knew that the toxic pair had been having problems since day one, despite their constant pull towards one another in physical intimacy. It was hard to watch his friend share chaste kisses on the back porch and left sobbing the next morning.

And yet the struggling poet continued to crawl back to the insensitive volleyball player, all for misplaced moments of affection.

Shouyou paused, his eyes scanning over the dead electronic in front of the blond.

"Anyway, how's writing going? Visual poetry, right?"

His lips curved upwards bitterly. "Scream poetry, actually."

The shop owner blinked, grinning at the attitude change his employee went through at the mention of his craft. "What are you screaming about?" he added playfully.

The poet smirked.

" _Everything_."


	4. night

_You can hide underneath me and come out at night,_

"So, uh, what can I do for you?" the florist asked cautiously, reappearing from the pale yellow curtain he had slid behind. Kageyama glanced at the bright amber eyes, cursing under his breath. His heart was the sound of pouring rain, and the flowers around him were drooping in response.

Shouyou didn't remember to wait for an answer as he continued caring for the succulents hanging from the store's railings. It had been a while since they'd been watered. They shivered at the florist's touch.

The athlete couldn't help but be entranced by the movements the ginger was making, the flow of his hands from plant to plant, and over again like they were calling for him. He was a sun, a _star_ , and everything in the universe was begging for his attention,

even though he was so, so far away.

The light across his hair shown through the dots across his eyes and the shooting stars across his wrists. _Painted sunsets. Shooting stars._

"You don't talk much, do you?" Shouyou had turned his attention back to the starstruck male, tugging his sleeves down as he noticed where he was looking.

Without thought, the ravenette shrugged, fingers fiddling with the loose change in his pocket.

"Well... Here."

The florist's careful hands had picked up a tiny brown pot, moving to the athlete's side with quick steps. His fingers brushed against Kageyama's skin, and

 _he saw stars._

"This is an Echeveria black prince. It's like a cactus, kind of. It's got big, thick leaves instead of petals and it doesn't need to be watered often."

He met the boy's eyes playfully, a smirk on his galaxy lips.

"I think even you would be able to take care of it."

He went to pull away, his stained fingers drifting from the ravenette's cold skin. Kageyama flinched, gripping onto him tighter. His skin was so soft.

"Don't worry," Shouyou laughed, tugging away from his grip. "It's a gift."

And then the florist smiled like he was made of the sky, like he was _happy_.

 _Like he hadn't been happy in a long time._


	5. sea

_A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity,_

Tooru's lips tasted like the edge of an ocean breeze and flecks of pale blue, saltwater, and taffy. He would gently tug at the imagination of his lover, nuzzling his mouth against theirs in gentle chastity, just to devour their senses moments later.

He was the sea and he was _open_ and _wild_ and everything Kenma wanted to be.

"It's been too long, hasn't it, kitten?"

The brunette tossed his athletic bag to the edge of his lover's couch, climbing upon him before the confused poet could speak. Salty lips pressed against his.

"I've missed you," he huffed, twirling the blond's hair around his thin fingers.

Kenma blinked, suddenly aware of the grumy pajamas he was in and the distant memory of the last time he'd showered. His laptop was propped open on his folded knees, empty words like angry pen pricks.

It had been two long weeks since he'd last seen his boyfriend, or ex as he'd assumed. But now the carefree brunette was tangling his legs with his and throwing his uniform off like he'd always been there. Kenma narrowed his eyes at him.

"I thought you threw away your key?"

"Oh, I did." Tooru glanced up with his smirk like a tidal wave, washing over Kenma until he felt nothing but overwhelmed. "You might need a new lock, by the way."

The edge of the athlete's skin beckoned him like the open waves, and all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as the brunette traced the veins on his arms.

"Tooru. Why are you back?" he asked softly. The older boy sighed. "What? I can't spend time with my lover?"

"No."

There was another exhale, deeper and darker. Skin departed. _Kenma was cold._

"Fine. Ushiwaka's mad at me, that's why. And since your bestie still won't have anything to do with you, I figured you might be a little lonely~."

Fingernails caressed his cheek. Salty tears stung the back of his eyes.

"Okay."

Because Tooru was _wild_ and _unpredictable_ and everything Kenma pretended to _need_.


	6. light

_When I turn jet black, you show off your light,_

Shouyou was full of colors, rainbows of orange and red. He was alive and _burning_.

Kageyama glanced through hanging leaves and bucket shades to catch a glimpse of his fleeting back, turning and spinning along with the breeze. And it was everyday he started coming back just to watch the florist, only after training and taking care of his new plant.

"Tobio."

The ravenette jumped, smacking the top of his head against soil pots, raining black and white down on his head in little dirt chunks. Shouyou laughed, light and airy.

"It's been two weeks, dude. Shouldn't you be focused on your job or something?" he asked cautiously, knowing the athlete would probably ignore the inquiry. He wasn't much for talking, only staring and managing to mess up many little things around the store.

And just as the small boy expected, Kageyama only blinked in response, brushing absently at his mussed hair. Because the ravenette wouldn't speak, _couldn't_ , in the presence of the boy that glowed, the boy that traced absent lines on his wrist when he thought Kageyama had left, and played with knives when the lights went off.

Kageyama was _infatuated_ and most definitely _obsessed_ with him, on the way the world revolves around the sun and the stars reach out from the night.

He thinks he's in love with him, with the star in his sky.

But he was the night, he was dark and made to do nothing but hold the weight of invisibility while gazing longingly at his bright and _unfathomable_ star.

 _Shouyou was his star._


	7. breeze

_Ebbing, and flowing, and pushed by a breeze,_

"Oikawa, please," he muttered, gripping at his lover's skin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this euphoria, or the last time Tooru had called him beautiful.

" _More_."

.

"What does love feel like?"

Kenma blinked up from where he sat at his worn computer, capitalized letters being backspaced, deleted, forever. His employer gazed emptily at the distance, fingering the flowers at his neck.

Just the day before Tooru had moved back in with Kenma, whether it be temporarily or unofficially, he wasn't sure. But his screen still haunted him at night, even with the pulsing heart at his fingertips.

 _Maybe because it wasn't beating for him._

"How should I know?" the poet muttered absently, vague frustration hidden in the way he shoved his bangs behind his ears and glared at the odd customer staring at them from the shadows.

"But...you do." The ginger bit at his lips, fiddling with his apron. "I've read your books, your poems. You talk about love like it's so easy to understand. I don't get it."

The blond scoffed, slamming the delete key. "So? That was years ago."

"You write all the time, though. And I've only seen you publish poems about love."

"Shouyou, it's not-"

"And they're your most successful, too. Actually, why haven't you been publishing lately?"

A harsh sigh left his lips, flower pots at the beginning of his hands edging, tipping towards the ground. Images of the carefree brunette raced over his vision, first smiling. Then crying.

"I can't," he whispered.

Hinata raised his eyebrows, a growing frown lining his lips. "What do you mean you-"

 _"I can't write anymore, okay?"_

He swore he could feel Hinata's heart drop. And Oikawa was smiling.

 _Somewhere._

He definitely could explain love. It _hurt_ and it _bled_ , and it took every piece of you to keep from _falling apart._ Because you were drifting and floating. Away, away

and never returning.

There was a muted vibration in his pocket. _From Tooru:_

 _srry i'm not coming back tonite ._

Because you were drifting and floating

and the sea didn't care where you ended up.


	8. shine

_I live to let you shine,_

Around 2am was when Tobio sat upright in his deep mess of tangled blue blankets, scratching at his head like he'd forgotten something. From the floor came a horrid snore, followed by groans of discomfort.

"Oh," the athlete whispered softly, dropping his hand to the muted covers.

 _He hadn't seen Shouyou today._

"Tobio-chan, what the hell?" a voice muttered from below, popping a head of messy curls upwards. "Your sleepovers are literally the worst. Ushiwaka fell asleep in the middle of making love to me!"

Kageyama glanced over at the tired mess of a brunette, sweat clinging to his forehead as he huddled under the borrowed blankets that would have to be washed soon after. Ushijima was sprawled on his side, back visible with tense muscles and healing scratch marks.

It was always like this at team sleepovers, and Kageyama was the only one who couldn't care less. Which is how Oikawa, Ushijima, and Kageyama ended up rooming together in the setter's bedroom, while the rest of the team had claimed the living room couches.

Oikawa tilted his head in question at the ravenette, wondering where the usual snipping comeback was. "Hey, what-"

"Tooru," Tobio muttered lightly, clenching his fists in the fabric of his shirt. "Why do you like men?"

The brunette blinked, frozen by the sudden question. A light red fell over the younger boy's cheeks, eyes fixated downward at the pile of mussed covers surrounding him.

"Uh... Guys are hot."

"That's not what I mean." The ravenette tried to keep his voice light, but felt it crack in response, the empty sound of him clearing his throat the only noise besides the occasional loud snore.

Oikawa sighed in frustration, shaking out his tangled hair. "Well, what else is there? It's not exactly complicated, Tobio."

But still the athlete stared, eyes crystal in what was left of the burnt out nightlight.

And a _tide_ grew in Oikawa's chest, _slowly_ , _surely_ ,

while Kageyama was _fading_ , and becoming _darker_.

 _Because the sea is made of gentle twists of night with ebbs of stardust and unwound thoughts_.

"Has someone seduced you?"

"No."

 _But Oikawa knew._


	9. free

_i live to make you free,_

Kenma let the alabaster chips and rough stone tingled under his fingertips, heart lying in question.

The table in the break room was black and fabricated, embroidered with daffodils and begonias. And if you looked close enough there was dried blood in the slits and edges, where the colors could conceal. Large flower pots and dried leaves cluttered the place, leaning against the poet's knee as he hugged the dying plant's holder.

Shouyou was crying again.

Gross sobs echoed from his room in the back, hiccups and sniffles all blending in as he screamed, arms clenched to his chest.

And the shooting stars were falling again.

Though Kenma could do nothing but listen to what it felt like to be broken and breaking, outside of what he felt from his unrequited feelings. Because his bruised heart was something much different than the bleeding that took place inside his friend.

His phone vibrated near 2:30am, shaking him from the half-sleep he had fallen into while listening to the lonely cries. Kenma found it hard to leave when Shouyou was like this, and usual ended up spending the night with his laptop in hand, punching angrily at words that would never mean enough.

With tired eyes, he glared at the piercing blue his screen gave off. Unkempt hair fell in his vision.

 _i think i found someone who likes men almost as much as you do lol_

And the contact name for Oikawa Tooru was still "baby daddy", all black and twisted across his eyes.

With tired lungs, he sighed.

He knew where his lover must be, lying in the empty arms of another. Probably Ushijima, since the brunette had always found sex better with him.

But the older male would never admit to any connection with the other athlete, as much for the physical perks as Oikawa was. Though the brunette was still a bundle of unbound waves; he needed currents to push and tumble before him, to carry the weight of deceit.

 _He needed someone to care._

And even though Kenma wanted to pry his fingers from the cold ache of the sea, the air was much too frigid.

 _but you'll nvr find someone who loves you more than me ;_

 _Draft._


	10. skyrocket

_You can skyrocket away from me,_

Kageyama Tobio was in love.

 _He was in love and in so, so deep._

He realized that morning when he ran from his crowded apartment to the Gardens' front steps, black hair turned coal in the silver stars' hue. There was still three hours before the shop would open and Shouyou would return, so the nervous setter crouched beside the door in anticipation.

He was fully ready to wait those hours, checking hesitantly at the sinking moon while wondering just exactly what the team would do when they found his bedroom void of anyone besides two messy lovers, when the front door's hinges screamed in protest, flung open by pale, limp arms. Kageyama fell backwards to avoid the swinging oak, only to slip entirely off the porch and land with his head in a vat of plant water and discarded rose bushes.

Shouyou jumped in surprise, cheeks glistening with liquid pain.

"W-who the hell- Kageyama?"

The athlete bolted upright, glaring through twisted mats of hair that had tangled and were dripping down his face. The florist clutched his arms to himself, but even the ravenette could tell they were a little red.

"What are you doing here? It's four in the morning!"

But with the darkness behind him and the star in his eyes, Tobio glanced cautiously at the puffy cheeks and round eyes, red and exhausted, and something clicked.

 _God, they weren't shooting stars._

And then he was standing, stumbling, moving towards the smaller boy who was too drained to move away. He simply stared at the ravenette as he grew closer, noticing the etched pale of his eyes and stretch marks across his arms. There was kanji stretched across the side of his neck in small, black lines.

 _King_.

The flowers on Shouyou's shoulders were gold.

And his eyes weren't amber, but bristled copper and burnt forests. They looked so pretty when they cried.

"Kageyama?"

His lips were still red and swollen from muffled his cries, soft breath trailing between them.

"What are you-"

 _He even tasted like the stars._


	11. sail

_You can set sail to the west if you want to,_

The poet groaned in protest, lifting his tired eyes to the red cheeks of his employer, plopped in front of him with his head in his hands. A mop of black surrounded his shoulders and covered his arms, bunching up on his neck. Brown eyes glistened, almost with tears.

"S-Shouyou? Are you okay?"

Kenma lifted his shoulders back, reaching unconsciously to touch the side of the florist's face, gently caressing where his tears would fall.

"Kozume..." he muttered, his fingers on his lips and against his teeth, running over them again and again. That's when the blond glanced at the golden roses on Shouyou's neck and caught the edges of extra color, ringlets of purple and red.

"H-he kissed me... He kissed me and he touched me and I didn't know what to do."

And he started hiccuping, the jacket balled up in his small fists, pink lips the color of cherries and aching flames.

Panic ran through Kenma's veins, seizing him without thought. God, he knew what the skillful hands of a man could do,

 _and that made him so scared._

"Shh, it's alright, don't cry; where did he touch you? When did this happen? Who-"

Shouyou cut him off with a shake of his head, nuzzling deeper into his friend's embrace as the shaking arms wrapped around him and brought him closer. The poet's fingers played melodies in his ginger hair, chin resting on top his head.

Softly, from the depths of his beige sweater and the strange black jacket, Hinata was muttering. Kenma continued to rub the smaller boy's temples and shoulders, absently fiddling with the tail of his jacket.

 _Why did it feel so familiar?_

"Hinata, who kissed you?"

The florist trembled, fingertips still playing with his chapped lips. And maybe he wasn't scared anymore, but there was something far more fragile in his gaze.

 _The jacket was soft and frayed at the tips and pockets, a lazy smell of burnt cigarettes and cheap booze just as clear as the blue stripe that ran down one side._

He'd worn that jacket before. It was Oikawa's.

"Kageyama did.

 _He kissed my wrists and said I tasted like broken galaxies and blood."_


	12. galaxy

_Never come back if you find another galaxy,_

There was nothing else Kageyama could think of.

The red of his lips still tasted like him, soft and elegant, stuck where his fingers couldn't reach and his mind just grazed. He was drunk on pure bliss, trapped inside his murky thoughts.

 _He was in love._

All during practice his focus kept straying, and he was eventually subbed for Oikawa, who limped gracelessly back to his position, eyes on the hazy ravenette.

Kageyama glanced down at the dirt in his fingernails, grimacing. He'd felt every inch of his star,

but he'd done something wrong.

Because just as his tongue had traced the inside of Shouyou's mouth and his hands found their way under his blueberry shirt to pastry skin beneath, fingers clawed at his arms. The florist had ripped himself from the athlete's grip, flinging him back to the puddle where he'd fallen before, hands sinking in the red mud.

"D-don't!" the ginger shouted, arms hugged to himself as crystal tears traced pretty, pretty eyes.

 _"Don't ever touch me again!"_

 _Then how can I show you my love?_

Tobio sighed emptily, filing his nails absently as the squeak of volleyball sneakers kept his thoughts from traveling too far.

But now his words echoed, filling his head in waves and splashes of red.

 _"You're disgusting!_

 _Don't come here anymore!"_

He'd whispered his name, softly, still filled with pieces and bits of stardust.

"Never say my name again."

His star was _loud_ and _bright_ , full of burning _emotions_ that churned and boiled. His star was _so, so_ close

and so, so _far_.

"What the hell is with you today Tobio? First you leave your own sleepover, then show up all puffy-eyed and cranky to practice?"

The brunette stood over the setter, eyes drifting towards the fingernail marks on his forearms and the gentle bruises on his palms.

"Don't tell me it's that boy you like. Did he break up with you already?"

Kageyama glared upwards, letting the dull of his eyes do his talking.

Tooru huffed harshly, turning away from the ravenette as their coach called break.

"Poor Tobio-chan," he muttered in sympathy, carving into the dejected boy with a hungry gaze.

 _"That florist is no good for you."_


	13. horizon

_past the horizon, till I can't even see you,_

The day hadn't ended yet, Oikawa nestled on his dirty apartment floor, stacked with flavoured ramen cups and empty cigarette boxes, wondering what store would be best to snag a bottle or two from, when the door flung open, and off, falling to the floor with a clatter. Tooru sighed.

"Oops," the poet muttered absently, stepping over the chipped wood and musty carpet, turned brown with ages of smoke.

"Kitten? This is very unlike you." The athlete raised his eyes to his lover, jacket all folded and scrunched in his shaking hands. His hair was tired back loosely, bangs tumbling down his forehead in loose waves.

Oikawa loved it.

"I've had enough of your shit," Kenna hissed, chucking the worn piece of clothing at the brunettes ugly lunch. There would be a stain on the carpet, too light to tell. "Keep your stupid fucking friend away from Shouyou."

"Geez, calm down," Tooru stood shakily, limping at the pressure in his knee. He'd ran out of pain medication weeks ago. "I don't understand what the big deal is, or why I have anything to do with-"

"Don't give me that, Tooru. You texted me about it the first, you knew, and you still let him go!"

"So what? The boy's in love; what am I supposed to do about it?" The brunette huffed, tripping over the laundry piles and almost landing in Kozume's crossed arms. He nearly growled.

" _Shouyou isn't gay, Oikawa._ "

Tooru blinked slowly, taking in the tired blond with skillfully eyes. But something was wrong, almost missing, in the crude amber tones, painted across his face in messy lines and dashes.

 _He isn't his anymore._

"Neither were you. People change."

 _The sea isn't calmed, it's never tamed._

 _When the waves change and fall against rocky shores in still flows and lost currents,_

that's when the sea is scared

"I'll kill you before Shouyou has to go through what I did. I promise you."

 _It wasn't a kiss, but they were so close._

 _It was anger and betrayal and every emotion hidden inside them in bound knots being released and uncoiled._

The sea missed its company.


	14. fly

_Far from here, where there's more room to fly,_

" _Please, Shouyou,_

 _I can make you free,_ "

It was cold and dark, high noon when the colloids flooded the pitched sky and made shadows over pavement and late speckles of rain. And it didn't help the droplets under Hinata's eyes blend in at all, or the scars keep from standing out.

Kenma hadn't yet returned from his visit to his lover, and Kageyama had found his way back to his sun, his star, once again. But nothing was shining in the pale of day, not even the dead smile on the florist's face.

"S-Shouyou-"

"Don't say my name!"

Maybe the rain was falling, but, holy shit, it looked like tears.

The athlete couldn't speak through the lump in his throat, but thoughts were building like empty waves, like speckles of sunlight through closed blinds at sunset, rising, glowing.

 _Please,_

 _Let me._

"I told you I don't want you around here anymore!"

His arms weren't hidden, and the stars were falling, falling, crimson against starlight and blue veins.

"I'm not _gay_ , Tobio! I don't like you!"

 _Please_ ,

Let me.

"Please!" the ravenette shouted, startling the ginger. Now they were definitely tears, and definitely falling, becoming bright and whole like collecting comets. And for a moment, the stars were surprised as they flew past, flashing and thundering like a storm.

 _The night wasn't like this._

"Shouyou, _please_ , I'll do anything, I'll be anything you want me to!"

 _Let me take away your pain._

"I just-I can't live without you. I need you."

 _Let me chase away your worries with tired lips down your neck in the middle of the night._

"I'm in love with you, with _everything_ about you. You're always on my mind, and in my thoughts, and I can't get away just-

" _just let me_ -"

 _No_.


	15. beach

_Far from here, where the beaches are wide,_

" _Tooru,_

 _I loved you once, you know_."

"I know."

Kenma opened weak eyes against the scratchy bed sheets, pulled tight against his skin and scrunched around his body, tying both him and the sleeping athlete in slick embrace. He remembered empty promises from weeks and weeks ago, but last night was something new.

" _I think I'm in love with you._ "

And the poet had felt like smirking in triumph as Oikawa shivered beneath him, drunk on his touch and an absence of emotion. Rhymes and hateful words spewed from his lips like pure bliss, raw adrenaline. _He could write again._

As the poems brewed in vacant parts of his mind, he ravished his lover, his _old_ lover, wondering if he'd ever sounded this good under him.

 _But when he woke up, there was nothing left to say._

Even though he'd confessed and licked his lips and _begged_ , there wasn't much Kenma could do. Because he knew what he loved and who he loved, and he'd already accepted the truth.

 _But the sea always changes._

Now there's a heart between Tooru's lungs, and it's beating _so fast._

 _It's beating for someone who can't stand the waves anymore._

"it is rough

and lonely,

but it

isn't

wasn't

 _love_."

The poet smiled between his fingers, letting letters decay at his touch and rewrite themselves again as he snuck from Oikawa's apartment, huddling in all the clothes he'd left there, missing all the clothes he'd ever taken. Shouyou's words replayed themselves, a little loud and a bit soft, like the sky's own fireworks.

" _Visual poetry, right?_ "

 _He's not screaming anymore._


	16. stardust

_Leave me your stardust to remember you by._

" _Why are you still here?_ "

" _Where else would I be?"_

Summer scaled over the crescent hills emptily once again, rising lights stars across the ground as morning dew, tracing the outline of Karasuno Gardens, where the sun once sat. Shadows fell against the crumbling porch, highlighting where the florist would stand, flowers in hand, waving briskly to neighbors and future customers. They would watch as light got trapped in his speckled eyes and golden cheeks, running through his bright, bright hair.

 _He was the sun._

And even now, Tobio found himself at the same street corner, lost in thought at the blank oak signs and wilting bushes. The sky would rise and fall, watching him stare. But he was of the moon and of the stars in the dark of night, nothing left to compare.

Every few days, when time was low and the sulking poet was able to travel back to where he once worked, they would meet each other, eyes catching in understanding. Blond hair was now deep, highlighted brown, tied back into a bun at the nap of his neck, where strands escaped to trace over his covered shoulders. And the athlete felt like crying all over again,

but not really.

"Hey."

Kozume grinned tightly, gaze held onto the rundown building and the flowers at his feet. Somewhere inside was his old laptop, all buried with dusty purpose and full of many mistakes.

"Hi."

Sun streaked through tight clouds across the clumped grass, swiftly blinding the ravenette. But he wouldn't dare shield his eyes.

It was on days like this when he could almost taste him again, almost feel the abused skin at his fingertips, hear his star calling after him. He would remember the faded roses tattooed on his hips and neck, the mud splattered chaotically over him. He always wore something loose and light, slick to his skin against the heat of day.

On days like this, he remembered him.

"I don't understand," the poet whispered lightly, battling the wind that whipped across his cheek. Tobio glanced upwards, eyebrows raised in question.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

 _Don't make this harder than it needs to be._

But every time he came back, Shouyou let him in again.

"I don't..."

God, Hinata Shouyou had been _everything_.

A sun, the brightest _star_ , made of gold satin and something close to _heaven_.

 _But every star must die._

"I don't belong anywhere else."

The brunette locked eyes with the stubborn athlete, bruises against his neck and on his arms where his sport had beat him and where Tooru had taken out his pain.

He sighed.

"You can't live like this forever, Tobio. You have to _move on_ "

"I did-"

"Having sex isn't moving on." A pause, then a whisper: "Trust me."

The ravenette clenched his jaw, facing away from the torn down billboard sign and the staples crosses against the door. _6 months_.

"You don't seriously still go there, do you?" Oikawa asked one night, stretched fingers across his skinny ribs. There was nothing but familiar feelings between them, aching loneliness against solid lungs.

"Sometimes," he whispered.

The brunette scoffed, turning his back on the younger male while stealing the blankets as well. "You're psychotic."

" _And you're still in love."_

"I don't know why you do this to yourself. Tooru will leave you sooner or later, and coming back here is just..." Kenma tripped over his words, lost at how to describe the _uselessness_ of _pain_.

But this was Shouyou's place.

 _He wasn't useless._

"What else am I supposed to do?" Crystal droplets remained like stubborn rain down empty plains, clouds against night. He gripped harshly at his shirt, a brilliant, bright blue.

 _"It brings out your eyes, Kageyama-kun!"_

"You need to _let_ go." The poet felt his own waves within, remembering the stubborn rush of water that held him, that let him suffer. "He's not coming back-"

But now his voice was cracking and angry tears pricked at his eyes, concaving his chest and making his head _ache_. _A hypocrite, almost._

Kageyama let him sob dryly, keeping hard fingers against his collarbone, against the flowers that still burned, when he thought about them.

 _"I want to be like you, Shouyou._

"I want to feel alive again."

 _And the stardust scattered._

 _ **end**_.


	17. epilouge: wake

_leave me your wake to_

 _remember you by._

"i let you run your satin fingers over my bones but you were nothing like the ocean,

were you?

because you breathe hazy oxygen like hate to sustain you and let the waves overrun

you, don't you?

and i could say i never let the waves mean anything to me, but

they did.

and you used to say that the only currents that mattered were the ones beneath me, and over me but,

they never did at all,

did they?

 _i bet you let every strange tide run between your calloused fingers, because darling, the sea always runs in the same direction,_

 _doesn't it?_

you're sinking, and

i'm floating, but

we're always

somewhere in

between.

 _i hate you, and_

 _you love me, but_

 _we'll always_

 _be so_

 _incomplete."_

\- kenma kozume

thank y'all sm for reading 3


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